Las Vegas Weekly

June 4, 2008 · 12:06 PM

Darkened audition was no production number

By Justice

Illustration: Justice

I am getting the itch to test the waters of a new club. Inevitably, I always get the urge to change scenery after a few months at one location. This means I have to go through the process of auditions, which can range in the pain spectrum from completely humiliating walks of shame to just showing up and filling out the paperwork. The first time I ever auditioned to be a stripper, I was under 21 years of age. It was nearly two years ago to the day. I got online and browsed around for strip clubs, strip club reviews, and which ones would let me work while I was under 21.

Besides the Palomino Club (which has a liquor license), strip clubs that don't serve alcohol provide full nude dancers. The Palomino Club is an exception to the law that states all-nude clubs are not allowed to serve alcohol, having been grandfathered in to the privilege of serving "scotch 'n' snatch."

So I found a few clubs that would let me work as a teenybopper. I didn't even want to bother trying to work at Little Darlings. I knew a few girls from high school that ended up there. It would just be awkward at that point. I'd never been paraded around naked like that before. I was the kind of girl that had sex in the dark.

I call Déjà Vu. They tell me to come in during the late afternoon, a slow period, to audition. I was so scared! There was a lot of preparation ahead of me to become that sexy and mysterious being that was a stripper. Feeling far from sexy, I knew I was going to have to fake it. I have scars that I was really worried about. I was self-conscious about my body, as most women are. And what was I supposed to wear to get naked? The ensemble should be something that was sexy, but easy to take off.

So I slathered makeup on my scars and dug through my closet. I had bras in a few colors. I had a faded bikini top. I had a drawer full of mismatched socks and single stockings. I didn't have anything good. I settled on a red bra and a yellow plaid schoolgirl skirt that is long enough to be appropriate for daytime use. I still laugh when I think about it.

I showed up to the place, and the audition was definitely not a production. I sat around waiting for the managers to tell me what to do. There were about two girls working there and it must have been 4 p.m. Another woman was waiting to audition. The other woman must have been about 50 years old. It was hard to tell exactly. I remember the place being dark, smoky and full of red velvet. There was no indication it was daytime outside.

The manager comes over to me. He is some douche bag in a suit. There was nothing distinctive about him. I couldn't point him out in a lineup of douche bags in suits. It was something like, "Yeah, yeah. Get onstage. Get naked. Then fill out these papers." The other woman got undressed and danced on a nearby stage at the same time. By "dance," I mean gyrate obscenely. I got hired, but never went back. I would have given it a shot but the boyfriend threw a fit about the audition. My stripping career would not begin until our relationship ended in a situation much more dramatic than a strip club audition.

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